


Curios(ity)

by haisai_andagii



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Superman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce takes the Kent Family on a tour of the Batcave.  Lots of emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curios(ity)

“All set?” Clark whispered into the phone.  It was the end of the year and the Daily Planet was pure chaos.  He ducked under his desk just as Perry passed with a frantic-looking Jimmy in tow.    
  
“Of course,” Alfred replied coolly, over the din of the bullpen. “I insisted that your parents spend Christmas at the Manor.”  
  
“And Bruce said yes?”  
  
“Master Timothy and I gave him little choice.  Your invitation was secured under threat of ceasing certain...nightly activities.”  
  
“How is he...now?” Clark asked hesitantly.    
  
“Brooding,” Alfred mused. “But assuredly delighted.  Well...as delighted as Master Bruce can be.  Your presence will surely help to ease Master Dick’s absence this year.”  
  
“Thank you, Alfred,” Clark said.  “You’re a godsend.”  
  
“I know.”

~~~  

The Kents arrived promptly at 7:30, with ruddy cheeks and snow covered coats.  After Martha showered Bruce with a flurry of kisses and Jonathan nearly took his arm off with a handshake (Farmers are strong.), he greeted Clark and Lois.  
  
“I can’t thank you enough for flying us out here, Bruce,” Martha gushed as Alfred took her coat.      
  
“And letting us stay in your wonderful home,” Jonathan added.    
  
“Yeah, it looks like you’ve finally got this Christmas thing down,” Lois commented. The manor, which was normally dark and drafty, was covered in garlands, fairy lights, and holly wreaths.  Clark could hear the fire crackling in the study across the way.  And the air was filled with the scent of freshly baked cookies and pine needles.      
  
“It’s my pleasure,” Bruce said silkily.  “But I have to let you know that Alfred invited you out on false pretenses.  No one can leave until Mrs. Kent surrenders her famous apple recipe.”    
  
Everyone laughed as Tim and Kon (who had flown over the day before) came bounding down the stairs.   
  
“Ma! Pa!” Kon chirped.  They rushed in to meet them.  Pa gave the boys a hearty pat.  Ma kissed them both until they squirmed out of her reach.  Clark ruffled their hair.  Lois tweaked their noses.  All this fuss made Bruce’s stomach clench.  His ginger-ale became the most interesting thing in the room.  
  
“Won’t your father miss you, Tim?” Martha asked, when the quieted down.  
  
“It’s ok,” he replied brightly. “Dad usually goes skiing with my step-mother this time of year.  Besides, Dick is out of town.  I couldn’t leave these two all alone!”  They chuckled a bit before filling into the study, where Alfred had hot cocoa and cookies waiting for them.  As they thawed out, the Kents regaled their adventures in first-class.    
  
“Champagne and caviar! My own personal TV!  And the all the legroom!” Martha cried.  “I felt like a queen!  Oh, and the stewardess was so lovely.  She gave Pa a hot-toddy when that turbulence rattled him!”  
  
“A farmer’s’ feet belong on the ground,” muttered Jonathan.  “Not that I don’t appreciate what you did for us, Bruce!  Or that I won’t be able to fly back!”  Bruce smiled gently.  
  
“It’s ok, Pa,” Kon said. “I do enough flying for the both of us.”  
  
“Haha!  I’d rather take my chances with the plane!”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Alfred interrupted their laughter and informed that dinner would not be ready for at least another hour. Taking the chance, Tim asked his mentor if it would be alright for them to give their guests the “grand tour” of the manor.  Clark’s ears perked up at the request.  This was his chance - an opportunity to see the cave outside of “business.”  For a moment, Bruce’s pleasant countenance turned stony and Clark thought he would refuse.  But before he could protest, Tim jumped up from the arm chair and fiddled with the hands on the grandfather clock.  It now read 10:47.  
  
“Oh, my word!” Martha gasped as the clock disappeared beneath the floorboards, revealing a set of stairs leading into a cavernous black abyss.  Bruce looked sharply at Tim, who seemed to be ignoring his mentor’s icy stare.  
  
“I-is that the way to...?”  Lois trailed off, as she peered into the entrance.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you all would follow me...”  Bruce said, forcing a smile once again.  Then, he and his guests entered the yawning darkness, alighting the stairs and descending into the earth.  

~~~

Tim lead them around the cave and explained its features until they reached the trophy room.  He told the Kents how Bruce “acquired” the mechanical Tyrannosaurus for a young Dick Grayson after their victory on Dinosaur Island; how the enormous playing card came into their possession from one of Joker’s earliest schemes; and how the giant penny found its way into the cave after the defeat of the ridiculous career of the Penny Plunderer.  
  
“See that long crack through the middle?  That’s from when Dick backed out a Batmobile into it and it snapped in half!  Bruce was so angry that he made Dick clean out guano traps for six months!”  Kon wrinkled his nose in distaste.  
  
“Clark makes me clean out the traps at the zoo as punishment,” he groaned.   
  
“But you have super speed!” Tim exclaimed.  
  
“And super smell.”   
  
“What’s this sword?” Lois asked, fingers tracing its length along the glass.  The sword was finely crafted; a little worn but, shining brightly under the glare of the overhead lights.  
  
“That sword belong to Slade Wilson, also known as Deathstroke - the World’s Greatest Assassin.” Bruce replied.  “ I was surprised I was able to take it from him.”  
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“Well, he is the World’s Greatest Assassin,” he said flatly.  But Clark’s ears detected faint emotion beneath Bruce’s bored drawl.  “But I think he was willing to part with it when fought - Seeing as he used this very sword to claim the life of his son, Jericho.”  
  
“That’s right,” Tim interjected.  “Dick said that Trigon was controlling Jericho and made him attack the Titans.”  
  
“It was an act of mercy,” Bruce continued.  “I thought Slade would give up the path of violence for good but after losing his son, but...”  He made a futile gesture.    
  
“How terrible!” Martha gasped.  “To lose your child like that...”     
  
“Yes,” Bruce agreed quietly as he moved on.  He stopped in front a case displaying a older, battle-worn Robin costume.  Clark watched quietly as his fingers lingered on brass panel in the center of the glass.  He saw great sorrow in Bruce’s reflection.  But it was only for a moment before he fixed mask back in place.  
  
“What’s this bit of cloth?” Jonathan inquired, breaking the heavy silence.  Crimson cloth lay pooled in across the black velvet of its case.  There was a golden skull and bones adorning the brow.    
  
“It’s a mask,” Tim explained.  
  
“One of yours?”  
  
“No, that’s from Niccolai Tepes, the Mad Monk of ‘The Brotherhood!” Tim chirped.  “He was a vampire!  Right, Bruce?”  
  
“A vampire?” Kon asked incredulously.  Bruce chuckled.  
  
“Well, not exactly.  Mr. Tepes had superhuman abilities but he was still only a man.  He was part of a cult that believed their privilege placed them above human decency.  That cloth is as red as the precious blood they spilt.”  
  
“Tepes sounds like he was one part Dracula and Marquis-de-Sade and two parts Elizabeth Báthory,” Lois interjected. “But why keep the mask around?”  
  
“He was killed... Rather, he got himself killed,” Bruce explained slowly.  “He was struck by lightning when I pursued him onto the roof.  Even though Tepes deserved his fate... It should have been the courts to condemn him.”  
  
“Even in the ‘pursuit’ of justice, a hero must hold a murderer’s life dear, huh?” asked Lois.  Bruce nodded, taking a sip of his now flat ginger-ale.      
  
“Bruce, you and Clark are the salt of the Earth,” Martha consoled Bruce, wrapping her arm around his.  “Wicked men are their own undoing.  Don’t blame yourself.”    
  
They continued their tour.  Bruce told them about the Riddler’s cane, Tweedledum and Tweedledee’s Hats, his rather large collection of Mr. Freeze’s ice guns.  The cave was full of memories: good and bad.  As Bruce revealed story behind each trophy, Clark could see he grew more and more tired.  His “mask” as a happy-go-lucky playboy facade crumbled with each word.    
  
They stopped in front of another garish-looking costume that looked like it could be a prototype for one of Batman’s earliest suits.  Its “panties” were more like shorts; the cape was swept up and out like just like a bat’s wing (Impractical but dramatic.); and it lacked Batman’s insignia and famous utility belt.  
  
“Is this yours, Bruce?” Martha asked.  “It reminds me of Clark and myself when we at our wit’s end trying to piece together his Superman get-up.”  Clark scratched the back of his head, with a sheepish smile.  If they could see some of the things his mother made him parade round in.  Jonathan gave him a sympathetic pat as he moved in for a closer look.

Bruce laughed.   
  
“It was my father’s Halloween costume for a charity ball.”  
  
“Your father?” Kon asked.   
  
“Yes, he designed it himself.  I guess... I had this in the back of my mind when I made my first one.  It’s wildly different now.”  
  
“And bullet-proof!” Tim interjected.    
  
“I read about your father in the papers.  He was a man of many talents, wasn’t he?” asked Jonathan.  
  
“He was,” Bruce began slowly. “A great surgeon; a great philanthropist; a great husband and father... But not much of a businessman, I’m afraid.”   
  
“But a great man, nonetheless,” Jonathan said firmly, as he clapped Bruce on the shoulder.  “And you’re right there with him.  He would be so proud of the man you’ve become.  Just like we’re proud of Clark and Conner.”    
  
“And of you and your family, of course,” Martha added with a motherly smile.    
  
Just then, Alfred materialized and announced that dinner was ready.  Bruce excused himself and agreed to catch up with them in a few minutes after making sure the cave was secure. 

~~~

When everyone had gone to bed, Clark found his friend in the study.  Bruce was banking the fire and wearing the Christmas slippers that Martha gave him.  
  
“Are you happy now?” Bruce asked without turning around.  
  
“Yes,” Clark said tiredly, as he plopped into an arm chair.  “I got my Christmas wish.”  
  
“You, Alfred and Tim will be the death of me.  Don’t think I wasn’t aware of your little schemes,” he groused as he took the seat next to Clark’s.  They sat in silence for awhile, listening to the crackling of the fire.    
  
“You know,” Bruce started.  “I think I’ll cash in my Christmas wish.”  
  
“And what could the man who has everything possibly want?” Clark teased.    
  
“Some of your mother’s famous apple pie.”  
  
“Done!”  
  
“And...your parents.   An even trade for the emotional turmoil you put me through tonight,” Bruce said easily, as he rose from his chair to fiddle with the grandfather clock.  “Their words...filled me with...something I haven’t felt in a long time... Not since before losing them.”  
  
“Oh, Bruce,” Clark said quietly.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be.  I think your parents will be happy here.  Plenty of gardening and baking to be done.  Enough space for the cows.  Alfred can finally get that vacation he’s always going on about.  And you’re more than welcome to visit them here.  It’s much more convenient than flying out into the middle of the country.”    
  
“Haha. Very funny, Bruce.”  
  
“...wouldn’t be so hard to cancel their flight for tomorrow.”  
  
“You can’t be serious.  You’re joking, right?” Clark asked but Bruce disappeared into the cave’s entrance with a smirk.


End file.
